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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017805">The End Of Clan Lavellan</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaveTheFish/pseuds/SaveTheFish'>SaveTheFish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Family Loss, Fix It As In: Fuck You Bioware Let My Inquisitor Grieve HIS ENTIRE FAMILY DYING, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, My First Work in This Fandom, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, fuck your feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:35:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaveTheFish/pseuds/SaveTheFish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The reaction of the Inquisitor after his entire clan, everyone he knew and loved before the events of the game, is slaughtered. A block of text isn't enough, Bioware.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The End Of Clan Lavellan</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This was low-key inspired by Clan Lavellan by Izzymatic. I couldn't put it in the inspired box for some reason, so i'll just leave you with this: https://www.deviantart.com/izzymatic/art/Clan-Lavellan-527830061</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Inquisitor! The advisors are waiting for you in the war room.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t an odd occurrence to be called to the war room. Nor was it an odd occurrence for the soldier giving him the news to be incredibly serious, almost dismal, in their delivery. Though this soldier in particular seemed to be overdoing it just a little, head bowed, voice low, looking like his whole family had just been murdered in front of his eyes. Lavellan thanked him with a smile, hoping to brighten his spirits, but instead he seemed to grow even more remorseful, looking at him with regret, pain. </p>
<p>So needless to say he was already slightly on edge by the time he reached the war room, enough so that he hesitated slightly before pushing the doors open. “Alright, I’m here! What…” He trailed off, noting that all three people in the room looked just as serious and remorseful as the soldier. A lump started to grow in his throat. “Well don’t you all look serious!” He laughed weakly. “So who died this time?”</p>
<p>Cullen and Josephine shared a look, before the commander stepped forward with a piece of paper in hand. “Inquisitor… You need to read this.”</p>
<p>He held it out with such a grim finality that Lavellan almost thought they were firing him. Could they even fire him? He took the paper silently, reluctantly, staring down at the blank side of the parchment before flipping it over. The familiar scrawl of his Clan’s Keeper greeted his eyes, a sight that made a smile tug at his lips by reflex. Maker, he missed them. </p>
<p>Da’len, it started. He could almost hear her voice through the letter, feel the rough calluses of her hand stroking his cheek. I have no way of knowing if this letter will reach you. His smile started to drop. Our people are being slaughtered. Most of the clan is already dead, killed by soldiers who claim they have a right to see our lives end. Those of us still alive are hiding in the forest but we fear we will be found. His grip on the paper loosened. They are coming for us, but you must know we are at peace, for we know Falon’Din will lead us into the light. Live well, Da’len, and remember clan Lavellan lives on in you.</p>
<p>There was silence. In the room. In his head. In his heart. For a moment it was as if the words didn’t process. Like he was reading a story, like he was having a nightmare and would soon wake up to his father's voice, to the sound of birdsong and the smell of old wood and bread cooking over the fire. Then it all came crashing down on top of him. </p>
<p>He felt his knees give out. Took a stumbling step forward and tried to steady himself on the war table only to fall to the floor. There was a rushing in his ears, covering up every other sound, his head filled with nothing but the thought of death and destruction and fire and all those he loved lying motionless on the paths he’d traversed so many times he knew them inside and out. Forward, past the crooked tree whose branches reached down to brush your head, a slight left, touch the figure of Andruil with its cracks and cuts and imperfections and whisper a prayer, duck under the fallen oak, and… Death. Screaming. Burning. They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re dead.</p>
<p>His mouth opened in a silent scream, hands raking through his hair, pulling, tugging, trying to keep himself from falling, tears spilling down his cheeks, dead, dead, dead. His father wishing him good luck on his first hunt, eyes filled with pride and hands holding his shoulders so tight— Gone. His sister calling out his name, placing a flower crown on his head with a bright grin— Bleeding out. Riya punching his shoulder just that little bit too hard— Suffering. All his peers watching him with determined faces, saying goodbye to them and promising to return, the chantry looming before him as he thinks back on all those he has waiting for him— Alone.</p>
<p>A hopeless sense of loss gathered inside him, like a void, pulling everything in until all he could feel was the grief, the anguish, the horrible and unforgiving emptiness. He could still recall long nights spent by the fire, sharing jokes and jabs at their parents, could still recall the feeling of a blade in his hand, hidden by foliage, watching his prey and taking aim, could still recall the warmth and love and sense of home that they’d all brought him. And now they were gone. And he was alone. They had died and he was alive and he wouldn’t ever see them again and it wasn’t fair.</p>
<p>Hands touched his shoulders, someone crouched down beside him, the smell of parchment and dust and ink and Dorian. He pressed his face into the crook of his neck, tried to take comfort in the arms enveloping him, in the strength of the man beside him, in the warmth of a body next to him but it just wouldn’t reach him. There were voices all around, low and murmuring, saying something but he couldn’t hear them. All he could hear was the rushing of blood in his ears. All he could see was death and destruction. All he could feel was the sickening emptiness slowly consuming him. </p>
<p>He cried. Dorian held him in his arms and he cried and cried and cried until there were no tears left to shed. Until he felt numb and broken and alone. Until his eyes opened. Closed. And he was finally swept into sweet unconsciousness.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>An example of what we should have gotten. Like what the hell, man? They just go 'Oh btw your entire clan is dead now and you're not gonna get any satisfying conclusion or scene about it byyeeee' and toss your heart in the garbage. No, I am not okay.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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